


Do You Want To Know A Secret?

by Joolzmp7



Series: Do You Want To Know A Secret [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exploration, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protectiveness, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:03:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8536012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joolzmp7/pseuds/Joolzmp7
Summary: John is kidnapped, beaten and drugged.  When Sherlock rescues him, John makes an astounding confession under the influence of the drug that gets Sherlock thinking about the possibilities of a relationship with John.  Sherlock looks after John when he comes home from the hospital and things progress from there.





	

Do You Want To Know A Secret?

By Joolz

 

John’s head lolled to the right and he groaned as he was struck once more on the cheek. That one had cut the inside skin against the side of his teeth and, as his head rolled back to the front, he spat the collected blood on the floor in front of him. His head hung loosely forward, no longer having the strength to hold it up on his own. His captor grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up to look at his face. His left eye was swollen shut and his face was already a mass of darkening bruises from the number of blows he had received. His lip was split in two places and his head was ringing from when it had banged back against the floor when they hit him so hard his chair had toppled over backwards.

“Why are you putting yourself through this, Dr Watson? All you need to do is tell us what Sherlock Holmes knows?”

John struggled to focus through his bloodshot, but still partially open, right eye. He could just make out the frustrated expression on his kidnapper’s face so he smiled as best he could, causing more blood to flow from his split lip as he stretched it.

“Nope!”

The man backhanded him again and John thought he felt a crack as his nose was possibly broken. The man left him to wallow in his pain and went over to join his associate who had just been sitting quietly in the corner, watching all that was going on but not taking part in the beating being inflicted upon John.

“This is ridiculous. He’s never going to talk like this. We need to try something else. What about that stuff Tony was telling us about; the drug they were testing at his lab?”

John tried to retain the name they had just used and the fact that the bloke apparently worked in some kind of lab to tell Sherlock later. He didn’t like the sound of this new idea though. Experimental drugs were risky at the best of times, but in a situation like this, he didn’t fancy his chances. A beating he could take; and had indeed proven on many occasions that he wouldn’t crack under that sort of pressure. Chemically altering his perceptions, however, wasn’t something he could consciously control. He would just have to hope that Sherlock got here soon. He had no doubt that Sherlock would find him. The detective had never let him down yet and had found him on each of the previous four occasions when he had been kidnapped.

Five times in the last two years! That was just crazy. Perhaps it was something he should add to his resume - soldier, doctor, kidnapping victim. Maybe he could also add tea boy, phone-fetcher and illuminator of light to the list of duties he could perform. His eminently gorgeous flatmate certainly got his money’s worth out of his share of their rent.

‘Eminently gorgeous’? What was he doing even thinking that? Perhaps he was more concussed than he had originally thought – this was clearly delirium setting in now. That wasn’t something he ever allowed himself to acknowledge. He and Sherlock were best friends and that’s all it was. Sherlock had told him that very first night at Angelo’s that relationships weren’t his area and he was married to his work. John had shrugged it off at the time, not being interested in Sherlock’s comments about being flattered.

Now, though, after two years of living with the man, he found his opinions had done an abrupt about-face. He would dearly love Sherlock to be flattered by his attentions but he knew he could never ask. He had stopped trying to find a girlfriend a few months ago as well. None of the girls he brought back had ever lasted very long and, being honest with himself when he made the decision to stop, he didn’t really want them to any more. They never held his interest like Sherlock did so what was the point.

He’d obviously zoned out of what was happening to him for a while as the next thing he knew, his captor was standing over him again, pulling his head back by his hair and grinning as he pushed a needle into John’s neck, emptying a syringe of who knew what into his system.

“Now, we’ll see what you have to say for yourself.”

“What I have to say is that was very unhygienic and unsafe – you didn’t even sterilise the skin – is that good enough for you?”

John attempted another grin at the man, but it was quickly wiped off his face as he felt the fist smashing into his mouth. He spat blood out again. He thought one of his teeth felt a bit wobbly after that one.

“You stupid, smug git! You won’t be laughing soon; you’ll be singing like a canary.”

“You sound like you’re in a bad Sam Spade novel.”

“You just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?” He hit John again.

“Y’just said y’wanted me to talk. Make y’mind up.”

John was starting to slur his words so whatever he’d been given was obviously starting to take effect already. The quiet man in the corner stopped his associate from smacking John once more.

“Leave him a minute. He’ll soon be telling us everything we want to know.”

“Not gonna tell you nothin’.” John started giggling to himself, “Tha’s a double neg’tiv’ – that’s a no-no. Sh’rl’ck won’ like that.”

“You’re quite right, John, there isn’t an awful lot about this situation that I like at all.”

Sherlock spun into the room as he spoke and lashed out against the thug standing in front of John. He kicked him hard, the point of his shoe connecting with the side of his knee, felling him to his knees in one hit. The rapidity of the action and the shock of seeing someone burst in unexpectedly had left the man too stunned to provide an immediate response. The chance was quickly taken away from him as Sherlock followed up with an upper cut, sending the man’s head snapping back at the impact and he collapsed to the floor in a heap, unconscious and no longer a threat. 

Sherlock went straight over to John, as an armed tactical team followed behind him, easily subduing the other man and taking them both away as Sherlock bent to untie John. He noticed the empty syringe lying on the floor at John’s feet.

“John, can you hear me? Are you okay? Have they given you something?”

“Sh’rl’ck. Knew you’d come. Always save me.”

“Of course; I’d be lost without my blogger.”

Sherlock cut the ropes holding John’s arms and legs tight against the chair and carefully rubbed some circulation back into them, trying to avoid the raw skin where John had pulled against his restraints. He lifted John’s head gently, taking in all the injuries, piecing together exactly what strikes John had received from their placement and silently wishing he had taken longer to bring down John’s tormentor to have got in far more retaliation of his own.

“It’s alright, John, the paramedics are coming now, they’ll get you sorted. You’ve obviously got a dislocated little finger, a swollen, possibly broken nose and probably a couple of ribs, too, judging by the way you’re holding yourself. It doesn’t sound as if it’s punctured your lung though; I can’t detect a perceivable difference in your breathing pattern except for the exertion of being struck, of course.”

“Didn’ tell ‘em anythin’. Never betray Sh’r…”

“I know you wouldn’t. You always have my back. I have no doubts about your strength and forbearance, both in taking punishment and withholding information.”

“I’s a secret. Shushhhh.” John tried to wave his finger in the vague direction of his lips but he didn’t really have the energy to hold his arm straight.

“What’s a secret, John?”

“The thin’ he can’t know, ‘s a secret.”

“Why don’t you tell me instead, then?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but don’ tell ‘im.”

“I won’t say anything; your secret is safe with me.”

“I love Sh’rl’ck. Shushhhh, but he mustn’t know. He’d just be uncof… uncomf… uncomftabubble.”

Sherlock reared back on to his heels. What?! Did John know what he was saying? He clearly didn’t realise he was still talking to Sherlock if this was his secret. What exactly had he been given – was it some sort of truth serum? Is that really what John thought – did he love him? Maybe he just meant as a friend – but then, why would he consider that a secret? John seemed quite happily accepting of his own feelings so it surely wouldn’t be out of embarrassment. What could he mean then?

“Why would Sherlock be uncomfortable, John?”

“Said ’s not his area. Don’ wanna make him feel awkward ‘n ask me to move out.”

“He would never do that. He values your company too much.”

“He wouldn’ care anyway; s’already married to his work so wouldn’ wan’ me.”

“I wonder whether he might not see things differently if he knew how you felt about him.”

“Doesn’ matter. Not gonna tell ‘im so won’ be a pobem… poblem. ’S our littl’ secret.” John made another gesture to try and tap his nose this time but he missed. Sherlock caught his fingers and put them down by his side so he didn’t strain his ribs.

“It’s ok, John, as you say, it’s our little secret.” 

The paramedics came in then and Sherlock told them everything he had observed about John’s injuries, including that he had been injected with an unknown substance. They carefully lifted him on to the stretcher and wheeled him out to the ambulance. Sherlock followed after him, not wanting to leave John alone and he climbed in the back and sat beside John, his hand resting lightly on John’s leg whilst he let the paramedic work around him.

When they got to the hospital Sherlock was asked to wait outside whilst they took John into the Casualty Unit. He paced up and down in the corridor, his thoughts whirling as he thought over what John had said. Did John really love him? He had certainly noticed that John had stopped going out on those worthless dates but he had just enjoyed having John’s undivided attention without considering the wider consequences of why it had happened and what that could mean to John. Had he stopped seeing those women because he was now interested in someone else – in Sherlock himself?

He remembered that conversation with John about being married to his work. He hadn’t quite known what to do at the time. He had thought that John was trying to ask him out and he was in the middle of an exciting case and hadn’t wanted the distraction but did he still feel that way now? The work certainly did come before everything else; the thing was, he considered John part of the work, so where did that leave him? Did he feel uncomfortable about it? He considered his current swirl of feelings – shock at this new information, surprise that once again John had done something unexpected, confusion of his own reaction, but not discomfort. This bore further consideration.

A doctor came out to see him then to tell him that they were admitting John overnight. His injuries weren’t as severe as they might have been but as they didn’t know what John had been injected with they were just going to keep him in under observation to make sure he didn’t have an adverse reaction. Sherlock followed the doctor up to the ward and was shown into John’s room.

John lay propped in the bed with the sides both up and a nurse standing next to him trying to pull the covers over him and keep his legs in the bed. When he saw Sherlock come in he stopped wriggling and smiled as widely as his split lip would allow him.

“Sh’rl’ck! You’re here. I was comin’ to see you, but she wouldn’ let me get up.”

“Well, I’m here now, John, so you can stay there and let her get back to her work.”

The nurse nodded gratefully to Sherlock and followed the doctor out of the room. She sat down at the desk outside the observation window so she would be able to keep an eye on John and her other patients whilst still leaving John and Sherlock some privacy.

“Thanks for comin’ for me. Knew you’d work it out. Did you solve the case?”

“You know I would always find you, John. We got both of the men who took you so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“What about the other guy?”

“Which other guy?”

“They said about the guy in the lab?”

Sherlock sat up, interested. He had, of course, suspected one of the lab techs had been involved but their alibis had all checked out. He hadn’t had a chance to interrogate them himself yet, as he’d been too busy looking for John. He’d been forced to wait for Lestrade or, more likely, Mycroft to get back to him with the information but if John knew something that could speed things up, it would be very helpful. 

“Can you remember anything else about him – did they mention a name?”

“Yeah, I ‘membered it for you.”

“That’s good, John, what was it?”

“It was the name.”

“I know it was the name. Can you remember what it was?”

“Ummm… Tommy, no, that’s not right… Toby, no, not that either… TONY!”

“Hmm, one of the techs was called Nigel Anthony Smart. I’ll text Lestrade and ask him to look into him first.” Sherlock’s fingers were soon whizzing across his phone keypad as he passed on the information.

“He wasn’ though, was he.”

“Wasn’t what, John?”

“Wasn’ smart.” John started giggling. Sherlock looked fondly but resignedly down at him.

“Hmm, I wonder how long this drug is going to last?”

“’S all good. I feel great.”

“I’m sure you do. What are you doing now?”

John was trying, unsuccessfully, to pull at the buttons of his shirt but he hadn’t seemed to realise he was now wearing a hospital gown so he didn’t have much luck.

“’M hot. Isn’t it hot?”

“You’re fine, John.”

“Oh no!” John’s one half-good eye focused down to his chest. “There’s been a robby… a robobery.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Someone’s stolen my buttons. We should call the police.”

“Your buttons haven’t been stolen. They took your shirt off because of all the blood. You’re wearing a hospital gown.”

“Oh, silly.” John started giggling again. He tried to put his hands down the neck of the gown trying to push the sleeves away from him. “It won’ move.”

“Just leave it alone, it’s fine.”

“No, ‘m hot. Need it off.” He pulled at it again but it had obviously been securely fastened at the back.”

“You don’t have anything else on. Do you really want to take it off?”

“Not like you haven’t seen bodies before. You beat them with whips, ‘member?” This set John off again as he thought about the day he had met Sherlock.

“Indeed, John. Let me assist you then.”

Sherlock smiled fondly at him and reached up behind his neck to undo the tie. He pulled it down to settle around John’s waist. From where he was sitting it gave him an excellent view of John’s scar. He had only ever caught glimpses of it before so he was slightly excited to be able to see the full thing. Even in his compromised visual state, John could tell that Sherlock was looking at his scar and he grinned at him.

“Have a good look. Bet you can tell how it happened and who did it an’ everythin’, can’t you.”

Sherlock moved closer and examined both the front and back of John’s shoulder.

“Well, the width of the area and the scatter pattern tells me that the exit wound was here at the front so you were obviously shot through the single hole in the back. The angle of entry tells me that you were kneeling down at the time, most likely leaning over a patient. I would posit that it was an insurgent sniper who attacked you after your patrol was caught by an IED and you were treating the wounded.”

“’Mazing. There’s no-one like you, you’re brilliant, you are.”

Sherlock blushed. It never got old. The way John would just hand out praise so readily when anyone else would get mad at him, was always surprising and pleasing. Sherlock slid his fingers over the exit wound, feeling the differing textures of skin around it. John twitched and bit his lip.

“Sorry, does it still hurt?”

“No. Tickles.”

“Oh, really, are you ticklish, John?” 

“No.” John shook his head as emphatically as he could under the circumstances. “Uh-uh, not tickliss, not at all, not me, nope.”

“Me thinks the gentleman doth protest too much.”

Sherlock grinned at him and slid his hand down across the scar and round to John’s side. John squealed and then groaned as the movement jolted his ribs.

“Sorry, I momentarily forgot about your injuries. Though I do have to say, you squealed like a little girl.”

“Did not so!”

“You did indeed, I just heard you.”

“Didn’. Was your fault anyway. Bet you’d do it, too.”

“I would not. You’d never hear that ridiculous noise from me.”

“We’ll have to see ‘bout that. ‘Xperiment for ‘nother day, isn’ it.”

“That won’t be happening. With any luck you’ll completely forget about this anyway so it won’t even matter.”

“Not gonna forget that. Wanna hear you squeal like a little piggy.” John started giggling again.

“Hmmm, we shall see. Why don’t you lie down now and sleep this off. Hopefully when you wake up you’ll be feeling more normal.”

John lay down properly on the bed and Sherlock pulled the cover further around him as he didn’t seem to be complaining about the heat anymore. His eyelids were heavy and Sherlock knew it wouldn’t be long until John dropped off to sleep.

“Was never normal. Normal ‘s boring. Ha! Now I’m just like you.”

“You certainly aren’t as boring as the general population, that’s for sure. You’ve always been able to surprise me.”

“We can be abnormal together.” John gave a big yawn and closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. “Jus’ you and me.”

“Indeed, John. Just you and me.” Sherlock added quietly, and settled more comfortably in the chair beside John’s bed, prepared to monitor his friend throughout the night and think over everything that had happened.

The nurses came in a few times through the night to check John’s temperature and pulse and monitor his readings but they hadn’t been too intrusive. After the first nurse had tried to hustle Sherlock out after visiting time and been given short shrift and an incisive run-down of her affair with the Junior Consultant, he had been left alone to keep John company in peace.

Sherlock found it fascinating to watch John’s REM patterns and had even been able to pull him out of a nightmare at one point by stroking his hand across John’s brow and telling him everything was alright and he was safe. He didn’t know if that was John’s usual PTSD or the new trauma of being kidnapped and tortured; most likely one exacerbating the other. Sherlock was quite pleased with himself that he’d been able to stop John from suffering through it though so what did that say about his feelings. Would he have been pleased to stop anyone else from having a nightmare – would he have even bothered trying? He had to admit that the answer was no. He wondered how much of their conversation from the previous day John would remember when he awoke.

It was about eight thirty when John finally stirred, his groan calling forth Sherlock’s attention. 

“Good morning, John. How are you feeling?”

“Did you get the licence plate?”

“Which licence plate?”

“Of the truck that ran me over.”

“Feeling a little delicate, are we?”

“Delicate? I can barely open my eyes.”

“Your bruises do display a dazzling array of colours.”

“Do I even want to look?”

“I think I would probably refrain for a few days, if I were you.”

“You liar. You’d be in front of the first mirror you found, checking the bruises for lividity and healing times and patterns.” John opened one eye and grinned at him, then winced as the motion split his lip open again.

“Well, I shall observe your bruises for you then, and I can make notes without you having to worry about them.”

“Such dedication; what would I do without you?”

Sherlock’s eyes quickly flicked up to John’s face. Was he intimating something with that? It seemed not, as John gave him a small, teasing grin whilst trying to keep his bottom lip as still as possible.

“So, when are you planning to break me out of here?”

“As soon as your doctor comes into sight we can get you signed off and out of here.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t scared everyone off already.” John looked at Sherlock’s face and smiled. “Oh, I see you’ve been trying.”

“It wasn’t my fault, John. They were trying to make me leave. You needed someone to monitor you.”

John smiled fondly at him. “Thank you for your diligence, though you know that is sort of their job.”

“As if they could be trusted where you are concerned.”

John blushed at that and gave Sherlock a shy smile. “Thank you, Sherlock. I mean it. Thank you for rescuing me once again, too. What would I do without you?”

“You probably wouldn’t be getting kidnapped without me, so I doubt it would be an issue.”

“But what kind of fun would that be?”

They grinned at each other, happy to be back together again.

John was discharged on his own cognisance when the Consultant made his rounds later that morning. He seemed fully recovered from whatever had been injected and his cuts and bruises would just heal in their own time. Sherlock had rolled his eyes earlier when a set of John’s own clothes had been delivered, obviously by someone on Mycroft’s staff, but he knew it would make John feel more like himself so he didn’t kick up a fuss at Mycroft’s overbearing manner in this instance. There was also a car waiting for them when they exited the building, but again, Sherlock knew John would be more comfortable in such a well sprung vehicle as opposed to a random taxi, so he merely opened the door and escorted John inside.

When they got home, Sherlock walked up the stairs behind John, keeping close on his very slow heels to ensure that he didn’t slip and tumble back down. If his hand rested on John’s lower back as they ascended, neither of them spoke of it, though John knew he’d drawn in and held a breath when he felt that warm touch, even through his clothing.

After helping him off with his coat and shoes, Sherlock led John over to the sofa and got him settled comfortably with his feet up on a pillow on the coffee table and gave him the TV remote. He went into the kitchen, put the kettle on and made two cups of tea which he took back in to the living room. He sat down next to John and passed over the drink.

“You’ll find it easier to drink your tea without your mouth gaping open, John.”

“Sorry,” John chuckled. “I didn’t think you knew where the kettle was – unless, of course, you need to fill it with unspecified chemical experiments.”

“Just because I choose to allow you the privilege of making the drinks, doesn’t mean that I am completely incapable should the need arise.”

John took a sip. “This is exactly how I have it, too.”

“A thing need not be done to be understood. Observation is everything; you should know that by now.”

“I really should, shouldn’t I.” He smiled and took another sip. “Thank you, Sherlock. This is lovely. Just what I needed.”

They settled in to watch some crap telly and it wasn’t too long before the exertions of manoeuvring his sore body up all those stairs took its toll on John and he fell asleep. Sherlock was sitting quite closely beside John on the sofa and was just contemplating whether he ought to escort his friend to slumber more comfortably in bed when John’s head slipped down to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder.

Sherlock froze for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Should he push John back over or wake him up? He decided to wait and see if John moved of his own accord before he did anything else. John did indeed move, but not to return to his own side, he rolled his head further over, seeking a more comfortable resting place. John pushed against the bone of Sherlock’s shoulder, making Sherlock almost unconsciously angle himself slightly to provide John with a softer area upon which to rest his head. John settled into the crook of Sherlock’s neck, taking in a deep breath and blowing it out in a relaxed sigh, causing the tiny hairs on Sherlock’s skin to ripple and stand on end in reaction.

Sherlock was quite overcome by the host of sensations travelling through his body. He could feel each breath John took and counted his sleeping respiration rate, matching it against that which he had measured last night. John appeared to have settled into an even deeper sleep now than he had then, did that mean he was more relaxed now? Did he draw extra comfort merely from being next to another body or was it being next to Sherlock’s body specifically?

John snuffled against the soft skin in front of him, his lips pressing lightly against Sherlock neck, causing him to instantly tense, before he once more relaxed when John let out a contented hum against him which reverberated through his very pores.

Sherlock sat very still on the sofa, processing everything he was experiencing and feeling, and just allowing John to sleep to recover from his injuries. Injuries which, he had to remind himself, John wouldn’t have had to suffer if he wasn’t friends with Sherlock Holmes. When Sherlock had mentioned that topic earlier, though, John had quite clearly stated that being without Sherlock was an alternative he did not wish to consider. Was that not a statement to contemplate in its own right – John considered being injured a minor inconvenience compared to being Sherlock’s friend.

He had never had anyone choose him in that manner before; who put his wishes before their own in so many instances too. How many times had John walked out on dates, left work, given Sherlock his full attention when he had been involved in his own pursuits? Even when John complained vociferously and berated Sherlock on his lack of consideration, he still accommodated his needs. There surely was no man better than John Watson.

If he knew all this about John; knew that he would never do anything to hurt Sherlock; would comply with his wishes and do everything he could to make Sherlock’s life better – could Sherlock really do any less for him than to give serious consideration to this situation in which he now found himself?

He had never considered a romantic relationship before – he had never really considered any kind of relationship before, if he was honest. As soon as he observed everything there was to know about someone, he very quickly lost interest as they had nothing new to show him. So how could he possibly spend any substantial time with such a person in order to sustain a relationship in that situation?

That had never happened with John. Everything he did was different and exciting and he managed to surprise Sherlock at every turn. Even the boring things he did were somehow more interesting than they would be from anyone else. He had the ability to absorb Sherlock’s destructive energy and turn it into more constructive avenues which had surely saved the flat more times than Sherlock could count, given the frequency with which that had happened at his other flats, usually resulting in him being quickly ousted to find somewhere new to live.

He was not repelled by closeness to John, though he certainly took exception to anyone else invading his personal space. He was happy leaning closely over John’s shoulder to read his blog. He already allowed John access to touch parts of his body when he asked him to reach his phone from an inside pocket to save himself the effort and that never bothered him either. Whenever he had any kind of injury, John was the only person he would have tend to him, reserving visits to the hospital to those circumstances of the direst, life-threatening severity only.

This showed him that he clearly had no issues with regard to being in physical contact with John but there were more intimate activities which would, of course, be part of having a real relationship to consider as well. He had never indulged in those activities himself, though he obviously knew what people did during the many forms of copulation. Some of it he had, unfortunately, witnessed first-hand when he had been at boarding school, and though it had disgusted him at the time, he had to admit that thinking of John in that manner did not draw those same feelings now. Surely that should tell him everything. His interest was piqued and with Sherlock, curiosity was everything.

Sherlock decided that he would like to see where this would go. He wanted to try his hand at being with John. He was a genius he could do anything, so why couldn’t he do this. He certainly didn’t want to risk their friendship but if John already had these feelings himself then it wasn’t as if Sherlock was going in to the situation blind and throwing out wild suggestions. He would just have to let John know that he was open to new possibilities and see what John made of that.

Yes; as soon as John was healed he would move things forward. In fact, he could do some things now if he started slowly. He had quite enjoyed touching John’s back as they had ascending the stairs. He had felt the warmth of the skin, even through the clothes, and wanted nothing more than to test the texture under his fingertips without other barriers intruding. He could try touching John again when he awoke, under the guise of helping him get about and see if a piece of skin bared itself to his view. John hadn’t seemed bothered when he had let Sherlock examine his scar in the hospital last night, though that might have been the influence of the mysterious drug at work, lowering his inhibitions. Still, it was worth trying, so Sherlock would put his plan into action and see where it got him.

He started now by resting his fingers over John’s wrist, both to feel the skin and to measure John’s heartbeat, and spent a pleasant hour or so monitoring the data and storing the information in his mind palace. The increased speed he could currently sense told him that John was surfacing towards wakefulness. He wondered what John’s immediate reaction would be and it seemed he didn’t have long to wait.

John snuggled a bit closer to his pillow, enjoying the warmth against his skin. It felt a little harder than normal but the gentle movement up and down was restful. Moving up and down? What was he on about? Was he dreaming about a boat? No; his pillow was definitely moving and he could hear a steady beat under his ear too. Almost sounded like a heartbeat. It was a heartbeat. Oh hell; where was he now? He hadn’t gone home with someone had he?

He tried to think about what he had been doing before he fell asleep but his mind was a bit foggy. It slowly clarified and he remembered being kidnapped and Sherlock rescuing him and coming home from the hospital. So who was he lying on then? It couldn’t be…? John opened his eyes and then rapidly closed them again. It was; it bloody was! Why was he lying on Sherlock? Had he messed everything up?

John quickly pushed himself up to a sitting position then groaned as his body objected to the too-fast movement.

“I… Sorry. I’m sorry, Sherlock, I don’t know what I …?”

“Calm down, John. Everything is fine. Don’t move so fast like that, you’ll exacerbate your injuries.”

“Right, yes, right. Who’s the doctor around here?”

“Sometimes I wonder.” Sherlock grinned at him.

John smiled back shyly and gestured to Sherlock’s neck. “Sorry about that. I don’t know quite how I managed that.”

“You were tired. It happened. You resisted the urge to drool all over me so I’m sure it’s permissible.”

John’s lip twitched up again. “Well, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind now that I know non-drooling is the allowable margin for your criteria.”

“Yes, do.”

John caught Sherlock’s smile on seeing his own surprised look. Had Sherlock really just said he didn’t mind if John lay against him? Maybe he had been hit on the head harder than he thought. Or perhaps that drug was having hitherto unforeseen side effects. Whatever the cause, today was full of surprises and so far, John had to admit to himself, he didn’t object to any of them.

They passed the rest of the day quietly with Sherlock making John tea and bringing him a sandwich at lunch time, all of his own accord without being asked and John was delighted and thanked Sherlock sincerely every time he did something for him. Sherlock also helped him get up when he needed to relieve himself and he walked John over to the bathroom with his hand resting comfortably on John’s lower back, accepting the smile he received.

Later in the evening Sherlock ordered takeaway from their favourite Chinese restaurant and plated a portion for John and even some for himself to please John. John managed to eat with one hand, balancing his plate on the other hand with the splinted fingers.

It was only about another hour later before John felt himself starting to nod off again. He decided it had been quite a long enough day so he would head to bed.

“I think it would be sensible if you slept in my bed tonight, John. It seems ridiculous to force yourself up another flight of stairs after the way it took it out of you earlier.”

“Oh, I… Well, if you’re sure. That would be a lot easier, I wasn’t really looking forward to staggering my way up there.”

Sherlock carefully pulled John to his feet and walked him over to the bathroom.

“You do what you need to do and I’ll go and get your pyjamas for you.”

“Thanks.”

John finished in the bathroom and found Sherlock ready and waiting for him outside the door. He assisted John to his room, which he had turned down ready, and helped John to get undressed, brushing aside any embarrassment as he had done earlier that morning when he had helped John into his clothes at the hospital. Sherlock held the cover up for him to get in then pulled it back over him, smiling as he turned to leave.

“Sleep well, John.”

John reached out to grab his arm.

“Thank you, Sherlock. I mean it; you’ve been amazing today. Thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

“What, um… what are you going to do when you want to sleep?”

“You know how rarely I sleep so I don’t see that it will be an issue. Even if I do, we have shared a room before when we’ve been on cases and you never complained then. Would it be a problem?”

“No, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want you to feel you couldn’t sleep in your own bed if you wanted to.”

“Thank you.”

Sherlock smiled at John and left the room. He had already decided that he would definitely be sleeping in his own bed that night but he would let John drop off first; no need to make him feel nervous when he clearly needed to sleep.

Sherlock had left the door slightly ajar and he popped his head round about twenty minutes later to check and saw that John was out like a light. He was lying on his side facing the open side of the bed which was just perfect for Sherlock’s purposes. He undressed, put on his pyjamas and, moving carefully so as not to disturb John, he climbed into the bed. He edged himself closer so that he was lying in front of John and then he spent a happy, peaceful two hours watching John sleep. It was so restful, in fact, that before he realised it, Sherlock was fast asleep himself, lulled by John’s rhythmic breathing.

John woke first to a sensation of warmth down the front of his body. He opened his eyes to see Sherlock fast asleep, pressed tightly against him, head wedged into the crook of John’s shoulder where it rested against the bed. He lay still, not wanting to wake Sherlock, knowing how little sleep he usually got. He watched Sherlock breathing, holding back a chuckle as he watched his own pyjama pocket ruffling and billowing as Sherlock released each breath against it.

He very rarely got to watch Sherlock at rest. Even when Sherlock was lying on the sofa, seemingly lost in his mind palace he still somehow knew when John was looking at him and John could sense that his observation had been noted so he always looked away. Now he had free rein to stare at Sherlock as much as he wanted and he certainly made the most of it. He loved the shape of Sherlock’s face. Those hypnotic eyes, closed now, but John knew just how piercing they could be. He adored the definition of Sherlock’s lips, so shapely and perfect. He bet they’d be just as soft to kiss. If it wouldn’t wake Sherlock up and spoil everything he would be so tempted to just try.

He could feel the softness of Sherlock’s hair against his upper arm and smell the expensive shampoo so close to his nose. He’d love to run his fingers through that hair. He could picture Sherlock lying on the sofa with his head in John’s lap, John running his fingers through it in a way that would relax them both. So many things he wanted to do but he daren’t ever let Sherlock know how he felt. He would rather spend his time quietly pining about Sherlock in the flat than to risk giving everything away and be forever without him.

Yesterday had been nice though. They had sat companionably together all day; Sherlock had made drinks and served food and been very courteous, helping him get about the flat and resting his hand on John’s back whenever he had walked beside him. It had been lovely and John felt a tingle in his spine as he thought of that touch. He didn’t know what had made Sherlock change but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. He would take whatever he could get. He noted signs of Sherlock starting to wake so he pulled his head back slightly to give Sherlock a bit more space.

Sherlock came to with his nose pressed against John’s skin. He instantly knew where he was but regretted that he had fallen asleep; firstly because it was wasted time when he could have been watching John; and secondly because he hadn’t wanted to rush John or make him feel awkward. He pulled his head back and looked up at John’s face. John smiled softly back at him, he didn’t appear to be put out by it so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

“Morning.”

“Good morning. Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?”

“Well, I haven’t tried moving around yet to see how the aches and pains are, but I feel quite rested, thanks. I always sleep better when I share a bed so I must have sensed your presence.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t disturb me at all; I just said it was better. Maybe you had the same feeling; you seemed to be quite comfortably asleep there.”

“I was very nicely warm when I woke up and I certainly don’t drop off in that manner on a normal occasion so what you say might be true. I’m sure your girlfriends don’t usually complain.”

“I hardly ever slept over with them, you know that. In fact I very rarely even spent a whole evening with them without interruptions so I wouldn’t know. Anyway that point isn’t really relevant any more so it doesn’t matter.”

“No, I realised when you were in the hospital that you don’t really go out dating much any more. Have I spoiled things for you?” Sherlock looked a bit ashamed so John was quick to reassure him.

“You didn’t spoil anything. I just don’t really feel the need to be constantly chasing after women; I’m content with my life as it is so there didn’t seem a reason to complicate things.”

Sherlock hummed but didn’t push John for a further answer.

“Well, I didn’t drool all over you so am I forgiven?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, but yes I think the anti-drool rule definitely comes in to play so you’re fine.”

John grinned at him and Sherlock smiled back. Neither of them seemed too eager to move and disturb the comfortable silence into which they had fallen. They lay together, watching each other easily and coaxing themselves into the day. It was John who eventually moved first when he felt the need to empty his bladder.

“I suppose I’d better see if I can stand on my own today and make it over to the bathroom.” He started to push himself up off the bed but winced when the movement put pressure on his ribs.

“Wait a minute. Take things easy. There’s no need to rush into things. Let me come round and help you get up or you’re just going to exacerbate your injuries again.”

John looked a bit abashed. “I guess you’re right. No point in pushing things if I don’t have to.”

Sherlock slid out of bed and went round to help John. John stood still for a moment when he was up, getting his balance and gathering his breath back. He found walking a bit easier today, though he was still stiff and his bruised body ached. Sherlock still accompanied him across the room and that warm hand was there against his back again.

“Do you want me to unwrap your bandages so that you can take a shower this morning?”

“I don’t think I’d be able to manoeuvre in the shower very easily.”

“I will assist you, John, of course.”

John blushed. He was a doctor and he knew that there was nothing embarrassing about it and he himself saw patient’s bodies all the time and thought no more of it but he didn’t think he would be able to be quite so objective at having Sherlock seeing his body in the shower like that. He feared his own body would give him away and Sherlock would be unable to avoid noticing his reaction.

“I think I’ll just have a wash this morning to give myself a bit more time to heal and have a shower tomorrow when I’m more stable. Thanks for the offer though.”

He didn’t want Sherlock to think he didn’t appreciate what he was willing to do for him. Sherlock nodded and turned his face away as he left, but was that a tinge of disappointment John had caught before Sherlock had gone? John knew their status quo seemed to be changing slightly, but surely not that much. He wouldn’t push it and wait and see what happened.

When he pushed open the door, Sherlock was standing there with his own dressing gown in hand which he held out for John. 

“Yours will be too hot for sitting around in all day and the silk will be soft against your bruises.”

John smiled his thanks and allowed Sherlock to help him in to it, joining in Sherlock’s laugh as he had to roll up the sleeves so they didn’t cover John’s hands.

They spent their day much as they had the previous one. Sherlock got John food and drinks and helped him move about and even agreed to watch a Bond film with him.

When they were both on the sofa Sherlock just couldn’t get comfortable, he was fidgeting all over the place. Usually when he had to endure one of John’s Bond films he splayed himself out across the whole sofa so that he could relax as he shouted insults at the screen; doubting that anybody had those kinds of skills and would have the girl fall into his lap at every turn. Though saying that, John certainly managed to charm wherever he went. No, don’t think about that. John had himself admitted that he wasn’t interested in those women anymore.

“Oh, just come here, will you.”

“What?”

“Lie down here with your head in my lap then you can stretch out properly. I know you like to get comfy when you’re deriding my film choices.”

“It’s fine, John, I don’t want to encumber you when you’re injured.”

“No encumbrance involved, I offered; and as long as you don’t bash your head back into my ribs as you shout we should be fine.”

John smiled at the look of hopeful doubt on Sherlock’s face. He moved his arm up out of Sherlock’s way and Sherlock smiled happily and swung his legs up on to the sofa and carefully laid his head down into John’s lap. Sherlock sighed and settled himself comfortably into position and they continued watching the film.

John didn’t really know what to do with his arm now; he put it down against his stomach so it was resting behind Sherlock’s head. He could feel those dark curls brushing against the back of his hand. They were just as soft as he had imagined they would be that morning. In fact, this was the exact scenario he had pictured. As the backs of his fingers rubbed against the strands, Sherlock let out a contented hum and his head snuggled against John’s leg. John took that as a good sign. He decided to make a very brave, though possibly foolhardy step. He turned his hand over and stroked it tentatively through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock let out an even deeper hum and John saw that his eyes closed briefly as he obviously enjoyed the motion. John grinned, delighted that his risk had paid off. He settled himself back more comfortably against the sofa and allowed his hand to caress Sherlock’s curls at will; both of them deriving immense pleasure from the sensation.

Sherlock relished the contentment floating through him. He had never known that something so simple could be so relaxing. This situation would have to be maintained even when John was well again. This certainly wasn’t something he wanted to give up now that he’d had a taste. He noted that John’s strokes were slackening and then started up again briefly before slowing down once more. John was obviously dozing and then trying to force himself back awake. Much as Sherlock would love to stay in this position, he didn’t want John to fall asleep on the sofa like this and wake up even stiffer than before.

The film had finished so Sherlock turned his head up to look at John. The movement woke John up and he tried to look as if he hadn’t been dozing off. Sherlock smiled up at him, fondly; politely not calling his bluff.

“Shall we go to bed, John? I’m feeling a little tired myself. It must have been the stupor of enduring that film.”

“Rot! That was one of the best ones. You can’t beat Sean Connery.”

“If you say so. Nevertheless, shall we make a move? It seems foolish to waste all your efforts at healing by sleeping the night away uncomfortably on the sofa.”

John smiled; delighted in the ‘we’ in that sentence. He would like nothing more than to sleep beside Sherlock again. He allowed Sherlock to gently pull him up and they got themselves ready for bed. 

Sherlock pulled back the cover and John carefully lay down on his back, permitting himself to be tucked back in. Sherlock went round the other side and got in, lying on his side facing John. He put his hand in the middle of the bed and subtly allowed his fingers to slide across until the tips touched against the side of John’s hand. Neither of them moved their hands and if the tip of Sherlock’s finger stroked down the edge of John’s neither of them was going to mention that either. They drifted off to sleep with that small but essential piece of contact maintained.

When John woke up the next morning Sherlock was already awake and watching him. He smiled at Sherlock and enjoyed the soft crinkling of the eyes as Sherlock smiled back. As he stretched he realised that the tentative touch from the night before had now progressed to complete hand holding. Knowing that Sherlock would have had ample opportunity to move his hand before John awoke and had obviously decided not to, John decided to take his courage with both hands and find out why.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes, John.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, John.”

“Could I ask you a question?”

“Yes, John.”

“Is that all you can say?”

Sherlock whole face creased up into a grin.

“Yes, John.”

“Idiot”, John said fondly, as he couldn’t help laughing as well. “Seriously, though, can I ask you what’s changed?”

“What makes you think something has changed?”

“Sherlock.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. May I answer your question with a question?”

“I guess.”

“Your generosity overwhelms me.”

John pinched the finger he was holding so Sherlock carried on.

“How do you feel about me, John?”

John pulled back, looking at Sherlock warily. This was the moment he had been dreading. What should he do now? Should he risk it all and tell him? But what if he said how he really felt and Sherlock didn’t feel the same - would he completely alienate his best friend and have to move out? He could play it safe and say nothing and just put their recent closeness down to his injuries. But judging by how Sherlock himself had been behaving over the last couple of days, maybe it wouldn’t be quite as bad as he had previously been anticipating?

What was he to do? Truth or silence? He thought about it for a few more moments and decided to hell with it. He was a soldier. Sherlock said ‘could be dangerous’ and here he was. He wouldn’t cop out at this stage when he had the potential of everything he had ever hoped for in front of him. Whether it was bravery or stupidity (as Mycroft had once suggested) he would risk it all and tell Sherlock how he felt. He took a deep breath and looked at Sherlock.

“I… Sherlock, I don’t want to make you feel awkward but I have to tell you that I’ve developed feelings for you.”

“As have I.”

“No, listen, I mean proper feelings.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean ‘you know’ - what do you know?”

“I know what proper feelings are, John.”

“Um, do you? I mean, yes of course, you do. It’s just that I feel that for you.”

“You feel what for me?”

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“It would certainly make things clearer if you did.”

“Fine, ok, right, yes. Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed…”

“I have.”

“At least let me say it, if you’re going to force it out of me.”

“Sorry, John. Go ahead.”

“I haven’t been dating recently.”

“No, you haven’t.”

John glared at him for a moment so Sherlock mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. John rolled his eyes but carried on.

“I haven’t really needed to go out and find somebody I was interested in because I already had someone here with whom I wanted to spend my time. You, in fact. I want to spend my time with you. Well, I do spend my time with you, I know. But I mean I want to spend more time with you and do other things. Different things. More… more romantic things. Hell, I want to do everything with you. Let’s just be done with it and admit it - I love you, Sherlock and I want to be in a relationship with you. There I’ve said it and if you want me to leave that’s fine, I’ll get packed as soon as I can.”

John’s rambling came to a halt as he looked at Sherlock through his lowered lashes.

“Am I permitted to speak now?”

John looked at him exasperatedly but, before he could launch into a tirade about inappropriate timing, Sherlock grinned and held his hands up.

“Sorry, John. Of course I don’t want you to leave; why on earth would I? We’re a team; always have been and, I hope, always will be. I have to admit that it took me by surprise the first time I heard it; it wasn’t anything I had ever considered for myself before. When I thought about it though, I knew it couldn’t ever be anyone else but you. You are always the exception to every rule.”

“What do you mean ‘the first time’?”

“Ah, yes. You probably wouldn’t remember it but you have told me you loved me already.”

John’s jaw dropped. “W..what?”

“After you’d been injected with that drug during your kidnapping you insisted on passing on a secret as long as I ‘promised not to tell Sherlock’.”

“I did? Who did I think you were then?”

“I’m not sure. I promised not to let myself know what you said and you went ahead and told me that you loved me.”

“Well… I don’t really know what to say to that. I’ve been worrying about giving something away for so long now and then to find out that I actually told you without even realising is a bit of an anti-climax.”

“It’s probably actually a good thing. It gave me time to think about everything whilst you were sleeping it all off. I have to admit that, to my own surprise, I was intrigued by the idea of pursuing things further so if you wish to try something then I am happy to accede.”

“I sort of don’t know what to do now. There are so many things I have wanted to do with you - and to you -,” John grinned, “but I have always pushed the thoughts aside so that they wouldn’t damage our friendship and now, with you saying you want it to affect us, I feel a little overwhelmed.”

“As in you don’t know if you want to give it a try?”

“Oh no, I definitely want to give it try. As in I don’t know what I want to do first…”

Sherlock grinned. “Now, that is a pleasant conundrum. I am yours to do with as you will, Dr Watson.”

“You really ought not to say something like that, Sherlock; I might take you at your word.”

“I sincerely hope you do.”

John burst out laughing and beckoned Sherlock over closer to him. “Come here, you.”

Sherlock slid across the bed and rested his hand on John’s waist as John wrapped his own around Sherlock’s neck and brought his face into easy reach. He leant forward and pressed his lips softly against Sherlock’s own, tasting and nibbling gently as he and Sherlock settled their bodies comfortably against each other.

John took his time planting kisses all over Sherlock’s face. The chance to finally get his hands and lips on what he most desired wasn’t going to pass him by. It seemed Sherlock’s neck was, unsurprisingly, a very sensitive area. It was certainly long enough and John had always envied that blue scarf for being wrapped so neatly around that taut skin. John sucked just behind Sherlock’s ear and dragged a line down along the skin with his teeth, only pausing when he reached the pulse point where he bit down, giving Sherlock a pleasing deep red mark. He kissed it better as he enjoyed the rumble of Sherlock’s moan at the new sensation.

Sherlock used John’s own tactics to explore his friend. He traced his tongue across John’s jaw, enjoying the change in texture as he slid with a slight rasp across the roughened skin and then on to the softer area higher up on John’s cheek. Sherlock kissed John’s eyelids, traced his hairline and down both sides of his neck, nibbling and dragging his teeth as we went from one side to the other. He copied the sucking sensation behind John’s ear. It seemed John was just as sensitive as Sherlock so he also gave him a bite on his neck, though he planted his higher, just under the side of the jaw, revelling in the idea of marking John as his own.

John pulled back as he watched Sherlock admiring his handiwork, knowing he would have a bright red mark on his neck for all to see later. He couldn’t bring himself to care; in fact, he was proud of it. He wanted everyone to see that Sherlock was his; that they were together; that he had been enough to interest and excite this usually stoic man of science. He smiled at Sherlock.

“What would you like to do next?”

“Well, we probably shouldn’t charge in to strenuous activities until your injuries have healed.” 

“Good point. Is there something you’ve always wanted to try that doesn’t involve complicated gymnastics?”

“I’d like to taste you. Will you let me?”

“Are you kidding? Of course. You can do whatever you want. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I do something to you?”

“I want you to do everything to me, John but, as I said, I’m prepared to wait until you’re better for that. Now seems like the perfect chance for me to explore you whilst you’re a captive audience, as it were.”

“I will always be available for you in any way you want me. You don’t need to hold me captive – although, that might be interesting to try, too.” John grinned at him.

“John! You shock me.”

“Do I?”

“Well, no, but you are certainly opening up new avenues of possibilities. I can see that I’m going to have do some serious research to keep up with you. How delightful.”

John joined Sherlock in a soft chuckle, knowing that there was nothing Sherlock liked more than something which captured his attention in such an all-encompassing manner. He was more than happy to provide a focus for Sherlock’s interest, in fact, he could think of nothing better than to have the force of that mighty brain pointed directly at him.

John carefully shuffled across the bed so he was lying in the middle with his head on the pillow to allow Sherlock access all around him. He spread his arms wide and gestured down his body.

“Have at it.”

“You know, I think I will.”

Sherlock smiled and started exactly where he was. He wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to taste John everywhere so he picked up the hand John had been waving in the air and sucked the thumb into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the strong digit, sliding up and down the length. John groaned as he vividly imagined Sherlock swirling his tongue around another appendage in just that manner.

Sherlock did the same with all of John’s fingers then he sucked at the skin between the thumb and first finger, slipping his tongue between them and biting down on the adjoining skin. His tongue circled the palm, flicking up occasionally to taste one of the other inter-spaces between John’s fingers before sliding back down again. He bit into the skin at the base of John’s thumb and sucked a love bite on to the surface, soothing the skin again as John gasped.

Sherlock moved on to John’s wrist. He held the arm gently and placed soft kisses on the skin, not wanting to press too hard on the bruises or raw marks left by the rope. He circled his hand lightly around it and took John’s pulse, noting the elevation and the breath holding followed by quick releases as he touched John’s skin. He watched the dilation of John’s pupils and the way he was biting his lower lip, trying to keep silent.

“You can make as much noise as you like, John. In fact, the louder the better; I am greatly enjoying cataloguing your reactions and sensitivity. Plus, if you keep chewing on your lip like that, you’ll make it start bleeding again.”

John’s lip popped free of his teeth and he opened his mouth, letting out a soft moan as Sherlock trailed his tongue up from John’s wrist to his elbow and sucked another little bite to the inside. Sherlock covered the whole of John’s arm in licks, bites and kisses until he had tasted each and every bit of skin, including the shoulder.

He had to stop when he got close to the under arm because every time he tried to trail his tongue along the skin, John got too ticklish and his arm reflexively shot back down and he caught Sherlock on the top of the head twice. After profuse apologies following the second hit, John just asked him to maybe leave that bit alone. Sherlock held John’s arm aloft and leaned in close and looked at the pattern of skin and took a deep inhale.

“Sherlock!”

“I’m not tickling you.”

“I know but you don’t really want to be sniffing under my arm, surely?”

“I want to know everything about you, using all of my senses, one of which happens to be smell. Do you wish to limit my ability to recognise you in any situation?”

“Do you really think a situation would arise whereby you needed to know how my under-arms smelled?”

“What if we were kidnapped and blindfolded and I had to find you in a line of people hanging with their arms above their heads? You should always be prepared for every eventuality. You should know that with your medical training, John.”

“I think ‘Be Prepared’ is the boy scouts motto, not the medical profession.”

John laughed but kept his arm raised, submitting to Sherlock’s examination. When Sherlock had finished doing that arm he climbed over John, straddling his hips for a moment. Unfortunately, as far as John was concerned, he didn’t pause there long enough for any more intimate contact before he climbed off the other side and repeated the whole touching and tasting process on John’s other arm. He had to be careful of the broken fingers and the wrist burns again and also, this time, he couldn’t lift John’s arm quite as far due to the slightly limited range of movement caused by his shoulder injury but he did his best.

Sherlock did take the opportunity to more closely examine John’s scar again, though. He had touched it in the hospital, of course, but this time he wanted to taste it as well and he swirled his tongue all across the skin, feeling the roughness against his lips. He loved the noise John made when his lips slipped a little lower and he brushed against the edge of John’s nipple. He did it again and again and was soon taking the whole thing in his mouth, sucking the skin and nibbling on the nub as it rose up under his ministrations. He leaned over John to reach the other side and when he almost overbalanced he decided it wiser to resume his earlier position of straddling John’s body so he had easy access to John’s whole chest.

He moved down lower to very carefully trace along John’s ribs, making sure not to apply any pressure or to touch the sides of his chest which he already knew were intensely ticklish; he didn’t want pain to be the reason he had John writhing around on the bed. Sherlock circled around John’s belly button, and then poked in with the tip of his tongue, causing little twitches in reaction. To John’s supreme disappointment, his cock was not getting the attention it was craving as Sherlock merely nudged it to the side so he could kiss and bite the skin of John’s abdomen without getting hit in the chin. He followed the blond trail of hair and sucked a large love bite right at the end before it was absorbed into all the other hair. He did the same at the top of both hip bones and then, abandoning the part John was most interested in, he moved down to the bottom of the bed and picked up one of John’s feet.

“Sherlock. Please?”

“Problem, John?”

“You’re driving me crazy.”

“I thought you said I could taste you all over.”

“I did, I know I did, but do you have to miss the best bits?”

Sherlock smirked up at him. “Merely saving the best ‘til last, John. You wouldn’t want me to rush straight on to the main course without finishing my starter first, would you? You’re always telling me I should eat full meals.”

John groaned as his head fell back against the pillow. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”

Sherlock laughed. “I know, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

John resigned himself to it, knowing that Sherlock wouldn’t be rushed when he was in an exploratory mood. He lifted his foot back up and held it in front of Sherlock’s face and lay back, waiting for Sherlock to begin again; hoping he didn’t plan on taking up the entire day on this part.

Sherlock lavished attention on both of John’s legs in turn; taking extra care to suck every toe as he had each finger. He spent a long while behind John’s knees which turned out to be very sensitive and he couldn’t resist laying a trail of bites up both of John’s thighs which twitched so beautifully each time.

When Sherlock finally reached the top of John’s legs, the man was a quivering wreck above him. He had been dragged through so many sensations as Sherlock discovered erogenous zones he never knew he had. Sherlock rested between John’s legs for a few moments just staring at the hard shaft in front of him. His upper arms were lying across John’s thighs and his hands were pressed against the skin of his abdomen, surrounding John’s cock within a triangle created from his first fingers and thumbs. Sherlock watched as each time he pressed down with his fingers, John’s cock would bob in front of him. The next time it came close to him he stuck his tongue out and flicked the slit as it neared his lips.

John’s hips tried to almost levitate off the bed at finally getting a touch to his cock and it was only Sherlock’s hands on his abdomen which kept him in place. Sherlock grinned. He liked causing such extreme reactions in John so he did it again. Sherlock rubbed his thumbs against John’s sac, massaging it gently as he pressed little licks and kisses along the length of the shaft in front of him. John’s fingers scrabbled against the sheets as he tried to keep himself still, alternately gripping and loosening against the material. His good hand slid across and rested on the top of Sherlock’s head, running his fingers through the soft hair, trying hard not to force Sherlock down in closer contact.

Sherlock could feel that John was holding himself back and wanted him to completely let go so he took in a deep breath and tried to take John’s entire cock down his throat in one smooth swallow. As John felt those lips slipping down, surrounding his shaft in warmth and pressure he let out a yell and grasped Sherlock’s hair tightly for an instant before he realised what he’d done and quickly released it. Sherlock had paused halfway down but as soon as John relaxed again he tried to go further, determined to reach the bottom. When John’s cock touched the back of his throat he battled against his gag reflex, not wanting to let a mere bodily function overcome his desires. After a few moments he managed to breathe through it and he sank down to the base, his nose brushing against John’s pubic hair.

Sherlock was very pleased with himself for managing it on his first attempt. He had read up about it on some online forums so that he would be prepared for whatever John might want and was glad that he’d been able to put it in to practise so early in the proceedings. One particular porn site he’d visited had shown a nice little trick with one man humming and swallowing around his partner’s cock. Whilst it was obvious that the majority of the responses were faked to make the movie more of a spectacle, that particular move had seemed to cause a genuine effect on the recipient and Sherlock was keen to try it out on John.

He sucked up and down John’s shaft a few times, licking in to the slit on each up-stroke, tasting the droplets gathered there and enjoying watching John who was almost constantly moaning now. On the next pass he took a deep breath again and when he reached the base he hummed in his deepest tone and swallowed around John’s shaft. Before John even had time to pull back and warn him, Sherlock found himself swallowing rapidly as John came straight down his throat, shouting and grabbing his hair as he released. John’s heels banged against the bed as his legs shuddered as he tried not to thrust his pelvis any further forward as Sherlock already had a mouthful and was taking as much as he could.

Sherlock pulled back up slowly, cleaning the shaft as he went. When he popped off the top he looked down at John with a satisfied look on his face. John had collapsed back against the bed; body limp, eyes closed, mouth posed in a sated, dopey grin. All-in-all, Sherlock decided John looked absolutely gorgeous in his post orgasmic haze and he couldn’t wait to get him in that state again.

John took a good few minutes to come round and when he did, he smiled up at Sherlock who has perched on his knees between John’s legs just watching him.

“That was… amazing. How did you do that thing…? How did you even know what to do? You said you hadn’t done anything before.”

“Just because one hasn’t physically performed a task, doesn’t mean that one cannot understand the principles behind it and be able to successfully put those procedures into practise.”

“Was that a fancy way of saying you’ve been googling stuff and watching porn.”

“Well, my way of phrasing it was certainly far superior to yours.”

John chuckled as he looked at the beautiful man in front of him. He cleared his throat and pointed at Sherlock’s lower body.

“Umm… would you like me to… um, for you…?”

“There’s no need. I think watching you was enough for now. You should know by now that I have total control over my transport, John. ”

“As soon as I’m fully healed I can’t wait to prove you completely wrong.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Challenge accepted. You just wait and see, Mr Holmes.”

“I look forward to it, Mr Watson.”

John put his hand out to shake Sherlock’s to seal the deal. He didn’t let go though; he pulled Sherlock up towards him and patted the bed.

“Come over here then. If you don’t want anything else then I don’t want to move. You made me feel fantastic and now I just want to lie here with you and fall asleep.”

“I can think of nothing better than spending my time with you, John.”

“Me neither.”

They settled down into the bed, John resting his head on Sherlock’s chest and Sherlock encircling John within his arms and holding him tight. The warmth of the covers and each other’s company soon found them both drifting off, happily dreaming of things to come.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. :)
> 
> Thanks to A as always.


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